Cartman's Racks (of Voodoo Dolls)
by Kylarileiza
Summary: Cartman decides to open up shop at the mall and uses his classroom to advertise and annoy. Random.


Cartman's Racks (of Voodoo Dolls)

 _A/N: Yeah, voodoo popped up in another story I was writing and I went somewhere with it, LOL. Totally_ _ **RANDOM.**_ _Forgive typos! Also, episode spoilers/references._ ** _Enjoy. (_** ** _There is something wrong with me)_**

Class was always noisy at South Park Elementary. Mr. Garrison was droning on and on about some celebrity or another and whatever else was trending on _TMZ!_ Kyle had long since tuned him out and was trying his best to also tune out Eric Cartman who kept poking him in the arm with a harsh and _loud_ whisper of _"Jew"_ each time. Usually, their teacher would have said something by now to shush Cartman, but Mr. Garrison was too wrapped up in the celebrity news to notice.

"Goddammit, what?!" Kyle exclaimed, loudly. Too loudly. Mr. Garrison finally whirled around to throw a glare Kyle's way.

"Is there something you would like to share with the class, Kyle?" he asked, clearly annoyed at being interrupted halfway through his sentence about the current reigning famous people of the world.

"No, he won't stop poking me!" Kyle cried, pointing his finger at Cartman. In turn, Cartman folded his arms across his chest and shook his head.

"I haven't even touched him," Cartman was quick to deny. Exclamations of, "Yes, you have!" were heard around him as not only Kyle protested but so did Stan and Kenny.

Mr. Garrison crossed his arms across his chest, not at all amused. "Okay, Eric, so whatever you wanted to share with Kyle, why don't you share with the whole class?"

"Yeah, fat-ass," Kyle quietly sneered from his seat, feeling triumphant that the teacher had taken his side. That triumph was short-lived as Cartman was bound and determined to win at every single thing in life and certainly would never back down or admit defeat to Kyle.

Cartman stood up, never having been one to be held back by inhibitions, saw the opportunity he was being presented with and he was nothing if not opportunistic. "Why, thank _you,_ Mr. Garrison. There _is_ something I'd like to share with the class," he stated proudly. His teacher was starting to doubt his decision to allow a platform for Eric Cartman, of all the students in his class. Cartman went on, "Yes, I want everyone to know that I have rented a kiosk at the mall and I will be selling my product, proudly handmade here in America, more specifically South Park, Colorado, so you should all come to support your local artist. Which is me." His classmates stared at him for a few minutes, trying to work through their confusion. Wendy recovered the quickest.

"You're not an artist!" she snapped at him. There was murmuring of agreement with her. None of his classmates knew him to be artistic.

Cartman shot a glance over at Wendy and smiled down at her. "Oh, Wendy, you would say that, being a _girl_ and all, obviously you weren't born with what it takes to recognize a good artist when he's right in front of you."

"Just because I wasn't born with a fucking dick, Cartman, I will-" Wendy blurted through clenched teeth, moving to get up out of her seat but being held back by Bebe and Jimmy. Murderous intent was clear in her eyes.

Bebe struggled to keep her grip on her friend. "Wendy! Calm down! He's not worth it!"

Wendy looked over at Stan, Kyle, and Kenny. "Well, _do_ something, he's _your_ friend!"

A chorus of "He's not my friend!" was the response and Wendy settled on glaring at Cartman.

Mr. Garrison decided not to intervene quite yet, finding the show to be entertaining and he was fascinated at how quickly Cartman was able to rile the whole class up. Butters turned his attention away from Wendy and back to Cartman. He pursed his lips, "Eric, what are you planning to sell?"

"I got racks!" Cartman exclaimed proudly.

Wendy gritted her teeth harder, she was sure she was grinding them so much at this point, probably to the point of losing enamel. "If this is something else about breasts, I swear to god…" Bebe's hand tightened around Wendy's and she signaled Jimmy to also tighten his hold, lest Wendy jump Cartman and kill him. Not that Bebe found that idea completely unappealing, but someone had to try to keep everyone from killing each other if the teacher wasn't going to.

"No, Wendy, I'm not talking about breasts, not _everything_ has to be about women, you know."

"You're the one making it that way!" she yelled back. "Mr. Garrison, do something!" She shouted at the teacher.

"Wendy, we're trying to learn here, shut up and sit down, I want to hear about these racks of Cartman's." Mr. Garrison wasn't willing to get his class under control yet and he really didn't care.

Kyle rested his forehead in his hand, feeling a migraine coming on. He could only take so much of this. Mr. Garrison was really going to let Cartman have the floor and just spout whatever he wanted, apparently.

"He means he's got money! Lots of it!" Clyde piped up, leaning forward and looking excitedly at Cartman. "Yeah, racks of money!"

Cartman beamed at him. "Yes! Is Clyde the only one of you that knows slang around here? You know that isn't of the _sexual_ nature, _Wendy?"_ He looked over at Stan. "You must really not be satisfying your girlfriend, Stan. She's all thirsty over here."

"What the fuck, Cartman?!" Stan exclaimed, face going bright red. "That's none of your business and we're _all_ satisfied."

" _All?_ Geeze, how many people are you guys plowing through?" Cartman asked in feigned shock and let his mouth drop in surprise, staring at them as a nun might. Cartman possessed spades of talent in acting and he knew how to use it to his benefit.

"Will you just get the fuck on with it, Cartman?!" Kyle demanded when Stan and Wendy could only sputter in protest while some of the class laughed at Cartman's joke. "You have money? Big whoop. Every time you get money, you waste it. Remember _Cartmanland?_ Or the money is fake! Remember that treasure you _ate?_ And it was just a cheap imitation?" Kyle stated to laugh. "And you had to _shit_ it out!"

Cartman glared at him. "Laugh it up, _Kahl,_ but you were the one eating my farts so how did _that_ treasure taste?" There was more laughter in the classroom.

"Mr. Garrison!" Kyle exclaimed, shooting a look at their teacher. Mr. Garrison just shrugged, having dropped into his chair behind the desk and decided to let the class work things out themselves. Besides, this was turning out to be quite the show.

Craig rolled his eyes and glanced around the room, wondering how on earth he got assigned to this class. Why didn't he fail third grade on purpose so he could have stayed behind and not have been subjected to this ridiculousness. He glanced over at Tweek. Oh, they would probably be talking about _feelings_ again later. Lovely.

Butters looked back over at Cartman. "So how'd you get all these racks of money, Eric?" he asked curiously. "Are you goin' to start dressin' all fancy in suits and ties?" he asked, eyes brightening. "Like a fancy businessman?"

Cartman frowned for a moment, giving the idea consideration. "Yeah, I might. Be a good look on me," he agreed. "Good job, Butters. You might just be my first employee!" Butters beamed, happy to have been complimented. Cartman went on, "Well, the racks aren't quite money yet, though…."

Kyle's head dropped to his desk and he hit it against the wood a couple times. "Just get to the fucking point, already," he ground out, wishing he would get kicked out of class. Really, at this point, he should just get up and walk out. Was he really so curious that logic wasn't winning out in this case?

Cartman sighed loudly, putting on as dramatic an air as he could manage with such little effort even the most seasoned actors would be envious of his capabilities. "I told you before, I have a kiosk at the mall. I'm selling my product there. It's on racks and I'll get racks once I sell them. _Obviously."_ Kenny mumbled a question through his parka hood and Cartman's eyes snapped over to him. "Why, yes, thank you, Kenneth. _What_ am I selling?" He inhaled and exhaled deeply as if about to reveal a secret. He grinned at the class. "You have to come to my kiosk to see." His classmates glared at him and muttered disappointment at not knowing and both Kyle and Wendy threatened to kill him again while Stan remained absolutely red-faced, still trying to live down the earlier horror.

"Oh," Butters muttered, sadly, bowing his head and looking despondently at his desk. "I'm grounded."

"Then sneak out, dummy!" Cartman snapped at him. "Don't be such a wuss, Butters, do you really want to be the only one here that doesn't come see my shop?!"

"I'm not going!" Kyle protested along with Craig, Wendy, Stan, Bebe, and nearly every other student in the class with the exception of a few. Clyde and Kenny were genuinely curious and always had some boredom to kill in the hours after school. Tweek twitched, not wanting to upset Cartman. He definitely did not need that dude out to make his life a living hell, that was already Kyle's lot in life and Tweek did not want to share in that so he remained closed lipped, planning to check out the shop. A few of the others students muttered to themselves, still not sure they actually wanted to waste time at some kiosk at the mall. It was Spring, after all.

Cartman remained smiling the whole time. "Oh, you're _all_ going want to come to my kiosk and see what I got hanging on my racks. You'll be sorry if you don't." He dropped his gaze down to Kyle and his grin only grew wider, "Especially you, kike, you'll be doubly, tripley, quadruply, quintuply, extra-ly sorry-sorry."

"Those aren't even _words,"_ Kyle grumbled.

"It's English, who cares?" Cartman shrugged. "I can make up any words I want anytime."

"You already do that!" Kyle exclaimed and slammed his palms down on his desk, "Mr. Garrison! Can you make him shut up or send me to the principal or _something?!"_ he demanded, desperately. Mr. Garrison sighed and finally stood up.

"Yes, yes, okay, Kyle, some of those were words. Eric, sit back down, you had your fun. Everyone knows now that you're selling stuff at the mall. That was a really long-winded way of telling everyone."

"Wendy interrupted!" Cartman said as he sat down, muttering something about women.

 **Later, after school...**

"I can't believe we actually came to the mall," Kyle groaned as he walked through one of the main areas with Stan and Kenny. Kenny nodded his agreement, though he was pretty happy to be there even if he couldn't buy anything. Stan simply looked catatonic. Kyle rolled his eyes at his best friend. "Stan, stop obsessing over it. It happened and it's over. Wendy probably isn't even thinking of that right now."

"What if she is?" Stan asked through quiet horror. "What if she is? She'll kill me. Because of Cartman. I didn't even do anything."

An familiar and snide voice answered, "Didn't I say that was the problem?" Three heads turned to find Cartman both glaring and grinning at them, twisting his face in a rather creepy way.

"Cartman!" Stan exclaimed, willing himself not to jump the other boy right there because that's about the only thing he could think. He was quickly saved from his thoughts by Kyle and Kenny who also yelled at him, but Kyle's sharp intake of breath is what really caught his attention. He glanced at his friend and where he was looking.

Kyle was staring at little dolls, rows upon rows of little dolls. Stan thought he had seen similar dolls called worry dolls, but these were just slightly bigger and crocheted and all had familiar looks to them. He squinted his eyes at the a bag that was attached to the back of each of them. Was that a bag of _needles?_

"What the hell," Kyle mumbled, just as shocked as Stan. Kenny stood in front of the display and grabbed one, flipping it over and inspecting the bag of needles on its back. He frowned and looked at Cartman. The doll had been knit with a darker yarn than most of the others and the hair was black, two small purple buttons for eyes.

Cartman's smile never left his lips. "Kenny, I see you found my Token doll. That's special edition, you know since it's black?" Kenny held it up for inspection and waved it around as if it were an airplane while Kyle looked on, aghast at the display.

"Kenny, what are you _doing?_ Put that back, we're not buying any of these dolls," he said, doing a sweeping glance of all the dolls, relief and suspicion flooding him that he couldn't spot out any with bright red yarn for hair. He spotted out several Butters dolls, the Kenny dolls' bright orange parka and hood stood out amongst them, the Stan dolls all had a blue and red hat, and the Craig ones also sported a hat. Kyle frowned as he continued surveying the goods. There were quite a few Craig dolls on this side of the kiosk. He noted the blatant lack of girls and himself and didn't exactly want to walk around to see what else was on display but knew he had to. He sighed and slowly made his way to the other side of the kiosk booth, dreading what he might find. The dread was well founded as rows upon rows of Wendys stared at him with pink button eyes and a miniature pink beret, black yarn dangling out from under it. Beneath the Wendy dolls were rows of Heidi dolls and Kyle felt all kinds of sorry for her right now, at least Wendy could handle herself, he wasn't so sure about Heidi. Then there was Bebe and every other girl from their class, taking up at least one row with the exception of Nichole. There was only one of her. _You've gotta be kidding_ , Kyle thought at the blatant racism. Still, there was a glaring lack of dolls of himself. He certainly wouldn't complain if there were none of him, but that would be too good to be true and he knew how the saying went. If it's too good to be true, then it is.

"Dude," Stan was suddenly beside him again, looking beyond him and Kyle felt a shiver run down his spine. Stan began to slowly shake his head. "Kyle, I don't know if you wanna see…." And that about did it because now he _had_ to see. He turned to look at what had caught Stan's attention and his eyes went as wide as they possibly could. There was another kiosk booth just several feet away, clearly also being operated by Cartman, as it was lined with more voodoo dolls.

And every single doll had a green hat with red, curly yarn peeking out from underneath.

Kyle stared at the dolls in a sort of horrified awe because he was horrified that they were all there but awed at the lengths Cartman would go to. He really shouldn't be surprised at anything Cartman did anymore, yet he kept finding himself amazed that a person like Cartman existed and not only existed but was in his class, a regular part of his life. Stan wandered to the other side of the booth and, based on the sharp intake of air and muttered curse, Kyle knew the other side of the booth was full of dolls crafted in his image. He could hear Cartman giggling with pleasure and triumph as he sold some of his creations and Kyle's blood ran cold. What were these people going to do with these… _things?_

Stan frowned, glancing over at Cartman. "Cartman, what the hell? How did you make all these?"

"I didn't have to spend a lot of money to get it done," Cartman informed them smartly.

"So, you have a sweatshop with a bunch of Chinese kids somewhere?" Kyle asked dully, watching as a little girl reached out and grabbed one of the Kyle dolls and hugged it while her brother grabbed another and began banging it against the kiosk. Oh _joy._ The boy found the needles first and began pricking it and Kyle could have sworn he was feeling those pinpricks on his _own_ skin.

"My sweatshop is decidedly North Korean," Cartman explained in a huff as if he was offended that Kyle would think he'd have Chinese people working for him.

"So they left the squalor of North Korea to come to America and live in squalor in your basement?"

"Oh, _Kahl,_ I wouldn't let them live in my _house._ They live in my garage."

Kyle cringed, realizing he'd likely being calling the non emergency police line after he left, requesting a wellness check on Cartman's garage because people were, apparently, living there. "Why North Korea?" He suspected he already knew.

Cartman rolled his eyes, surprised he'd even need to explain this to Kyle. "I'm good friends with Kim Jong-un. He's my hero. All the people in that country think he's god and have pictures of him in their houses. That's how America should be. Except they should be worshipping _me_ and have pictures of _me_ in their houses."

Kyle felt another migraine coming on, something that happened often when around Cartman for longer than he desired, which was too often. "No one wants pictures of your fat ass in their houses."

"When I'm president you won't have a choice."

"You can't make that a law!" Kyle exclaimed, growing increasingly concerned at the idea of Cartman as president.

Stan shook his head, amazed that Cartman and Kyle had gotten so far off track. "Cartman, these _things._ I didn't give you permission to make anything that looked like me and sell it."

Cartman huffed in annoyance. "I don't know what you're talking about, Stanley."

" _This!"_ Stan held up a doll that clearly resembled him and waved it around.

"Any likeness to real people is purely coincidental," Cartman informed them with a knowing smirk. He shrugged. "I can't help it if you just look so generic you think these little dolls represent you. How vain, Stan. Maybe if you stopped obsessing over yourself and took care of your girlfriend, we'd stop having these conversations." Stan immediately chucked the doll he was holding at Cartman and grabbed another, ripping the bag of needles open and approaching Cartman, his intentions very clear. Cartman backpedaled quickly, amusement flashing in his eyes.

"You broke it, you bought it," he pointed to a sign hanging from each of the kiosks. Which was in another language that they didn't recognize.

"That's not even in English! It doesn't count if we can't read it!" Kyle growled at him.

"Every store has a sign like that, I don't think I need to post one in English. This one was cheaper on eBay." So probably Chinese. Kyle rolled his eyes at Cartman's idiocy.

"I think the American court would disagree with you," Stan whispered, voice dangerously low as he pulled out a couple of the needles, ready to stick them in Cartman's rolls of flesh and possibly his eyes.

"Heya, fellas!" a cheerful voice interrupted them and all three whipped around to spot Butters approaching them. Butters eyed them with some confusion. "Is everything a-okay over here?" he asked as he took in the sight of Stan wielding tiny needles at Cartman while Kyle simply glowered in the background. Cartman looked over at him.

"I thought you were grounded, Butters."

Butters nodded. "I was, but I really wanted to see your little store!" He went up the the booth with the Kyle dolls and pulled one out. "Oh, these are all the dolls me and the kindergartners made! Wow!" He admired the handiwork like he couldn't believe it was here in the mall. "And then we had to do that chant thing with the, ah, incense and…" he trailed off realizing that Cartman was giving him his best _Shut the fuck up, Butters_ look while Stan and Kyle were giving him identical _What the hell_ expressions, and Kenny simply stood in the background still playing airplane with the limited edition Token doll. "Uh, sorry, did I say too much?" he asked sheepishly, shooting an apologetic look at Cartman.

"The _kindergartners?"_ Kyle grumbled, his anger reaching new heights.

Cartman scoffed at Kyle. "It's not my fault if you actually believed I smuggled people of out North Korea to work for me." He turned his attention back to his blonde friend who was still staring at the booths in awe as if he had not participated in the creations before him. "Butters, since you're here, help me sell these, will you? Start with the ones that look like you," he directed and Butters obediently went to work while Kyle and Stan gaped.

"Butters!" Stan cried, "Do you even realize what these are? And you're selling ones of yourself?" He asked, picking up one of the dolls in question. Butters shrugged.

"Well, yeah, fellas, I'd hate for all our hard work to go to waste."

"I don't think you realize," Kyle began before trailing off with the realization he probably wouldn't be able to get through to the other. He turned his attention to his best friend. "Stan, we should go. We'll figure out some way to shut this place down, I'm sure I can ask my dad." He glanced behind him, "Kenny, come on, we're leaving." Kenny paused with the miniature Token in mid-air and turned to put it back on the kiosk when Cartman spoke up.

"Kenny, do you really want to go with _them_ or stay _here_ and earn some _money?_ I might even throw in a few lunches." Kyle and Stan both instantly knew they'd lost Kenny at that point because he sure wasn't going to say no to money _and_ a few free lunches. As they left, they could hear both Butters and Kenny chasing people down and offering the dolls up with promises and discounts. Some people ignored them, some listened carefully, and others purchased several, oftentimes classmates.

It was the next day at school and nearly the entire class with the exception of Cartman came in with various headaches and other aches along their bodies. Mr. Garrison surveyed his class and wished he'd called in sick today because surely whatever the students had must be viral and he was in no mood to be ill. "Good grief, children, what were you all doing to get so sick?" he asked in annoyance and hoped to find out information so he could avoid whatever the illness was.

Butters smiled and beamed proudly at him. "We emptied Cartman's racks and made, uh, lots of racks."

Mr. Garrison frowned, "Well, I'm glad the business was a success but how did you all get sick?"

" _We're_ not sick, _Cartman_ is," Kyle protested, shooting a furious glare in his classmate's general direction, rubbing at his shoulder in frustration. It hurt.

"But he isn't sick," Mr. Garrison pointed out.

Cartman just grinned like a cat that had stumbled into a house infested with mice. "I'm sure you'll find out tomorrow, Mr. Garrison, I'm having a special today and you're the guest of honor."

"Oh, that's good," Kyle piped up again, looking directly at Cartman. "Because I'm opening a kiosk at the mall today and having my own special. Guess who the guest of honor is?"


End file.
